The Hero

“We don’t have a choice. We have to.”

“I don’t want to has to!”

“Stop,” Devon said firmly. “Stop right now.” Then she hugged her close.

Rawley took the groceries straight to the kitchen and began putting things away. Devon just waited by the door, holding Mercy’s hand, afraid to invade the house. Momentarily he was back, handing her a slip of paper. “There’s two bedrooms upstairs and you’ll know which one is mine—it’s lookin’ mighty lived in. There’s food in the kitchen and I ain’t savin’ nothing for later—it’s all open season for you and Mercy. I eat at the bar and clean up dishes before coming home so you won’t see me till eight or so. This here’s a number for my phone.” Then he grinned. “You’re the first person to get it. I mean, Cooper has it, but only because he bought me the phone in the first place—he got tired of me never checkin’ in. You just call if you need something, or if something changes with you, or if... I don’t expect anyone will bother you here.”

“You’re leaving?” she asked.

He gave a shrug. “I could stay, Cooper wouldn’t mind. But if I was you, I’d still be nervous and me gone will give you a chance to think. Check over the place. Rest. Eat. Get comfortable. Pull the tags off your clothes. Nap. Whatever you need to do.” He opened the door. “There’s another room up there. It’s where I keep the TV. Extra blankets in the hall closet. Towels and that stuff, too.”

“I guess we should wash off the road,” she said.

He looked at his watch. “You got hours to do whatever you want.”

“Thank you, Mr. Goode.”

“It’s just Rawley,” he said. And then he was gone.

Overwhelmed, Devon sat on his worn old couch, pulling Mercy beside her. Mercy. She had wanted to name her Mary in the first place, after her aunt. Mary had been failing fast the last time she’d seen her alive. Five years ago.

Tears started to just run out of her blue eyes.

“We’re free,” she whispered to Mercy.

“Mama, where’s the kids?”

* * *

It was Sister Laine who had helped Devon find a way out of The Fellowship. Laine hadn’t been with the family long, not even six months. And, unlike some of the women, she was very independent and didn’t seem to get sucked into group thinking, nor did she vie for Jacob’s favors. She was careful, though. Disciplined and obedient. Around Jacob she seemed skittish, maybe frightened, but there were other times when she threw Devon a secret grin and wink, or maybe a startled look. She didn’t talk about her past, other than to say she’d come from a bad place and that Jacob had promised her peace and safety. It was implied she had been abused by a man. Laine’s story reminded Devon that they weren’t all the same no matter how much Jacob wished it so.

Laine learned that Devon wanted to leave the compound and that Jacob wouldn’t let her take Mercy. It was hardly secret—Devon had been making noises about leaving once she first learned she was pregnant. But Jacob said no, absolutely no, because Mercy was his child. So, for several years Devon and Mercy made the compound their home.

They were gathering eggs one morning when Laine whispered, “I know you want to leave.”

“No,” Devon said, hiding surprise, cautious in case of betrayal. “I’m very happy.”

“I know you want to go and if you do, I can help. If you turn on me, it will be bad, very bad. If you don’t want to go, just ignore me.”

But Devon said, “Help how?”

“Listen carefully. On June 9 there will be a hole in the fence behind the henhouse, right over there. There will be a backpack with some clothes, bottled water, a couple of apples and granola bars—look for it outside the fence behind a tree. At midnight there will be a truck down the road—the lights will be off. The driver will take you over the mountain. He won’t wait long. Go to the coast. You shouldn’t travel Highway 5, it’s too close to the compound and you’ll be found right away if anyone decides to look for you. If they look, they’ll only look as far as you can walk. Hitching a ride on Highway 101 is safer. If anything goes wrong, try to find a women’s shelter and tell your story. As a last resort, if you have no other way to get help, tell the police.”

“Why a last resort?”

“Because, Devon, once you tell, they might make a move on this place and everyone could be in danger. Jacob will fight back. So, only tell the police if that’s the only way you can be safe.”

“Why would you do this?”

She shrugged and said, “I fixed it up at the Farmers’ Market. I was planning to do it myself, but I think you should go first. I’ll figure out something.”

“Maybe we could both go,” Devon said, wondering if she’d lost her mind.

But Laine shook her head. “Two of us and Mercy traveling together would be too easy to track. If you get in a fix, tell someone what’s going on here. The moods, the threats, the little rages and the gardens. If you have to tell, tell to keep yourself safe. It is not safe here.”

“It was once. Or it seemed to be,” Devon said.

“It’s not safe now, I can tell. It’s time to get the children out. I think you know that. Now let’s find some eggs. And laugh at my jokes, for God’s sake!” Then she smiled. “You have this one chance. Do it.”

It’s time to get the children out. Those words struck fear in Devon’s heart and she knew she had to act. She had to take the chance that was being given to her. She had to trust Laine. But, once she had made her decision, Devon nearly counted her heartbeats until she and Mercy could escape.

Just as Laine had promised, everything was ready. And, before she knew it, she’d done it.

* * *

Rawley got back to the beach bar around two in the afternoon. He walked in on one of the most unlikely friendships he’d ever known about, and he’d known of some odd ones since Vietnam. Cooper was behind his bar and Spencer Lawson was sitting on a stool facing him. This was a fairly new friendship. As Rawley heard the story, Spencer had been married to an old fiancée of Cooper’s and the poor lady died. She had cancer or something, Rawley recalled. And several months before her death, blood work had been done and revealed that their ten-year-old son, Austin, was actually not Spencer’s biological son, but Cooper’s.

Well, now, Rawley thought. That’ll make or break a man.

But the men had worked it out. In fact, Spencer had just agreed to take a job in Thunder Point so both dads could live in the same town and be parents to one little boy. And ten-year-old Austin had the potential to be spoiled rotten.

“Hey, Rawley,” Cooper said. “How’s your cousin?”

“Huh? Oh, she’s okay. I left her to get a nap, relax or whatever.”

“How long you think she’ll stay?”

Rawley just shrugged. “Can’t say. Might be she doesn’t find an old Vet much fun to live with and just moves on.”

“Well, what brought her here?” Cooper asked.

“You are sure the nosiest som-bitch I know. I don’t have the details, don’t really need the details, but I gather it was a bad situation or something and she needs a place to roost a bit. Don’t matter. I’m happy to give her a bed. She’s got a kid—you don’t just ignore a kid. I don’t want them staying in some damn run-down hotel all alone just because I’m an old coot set in my ways.” He craned his neck and looked out the windows to the beach. “Speaking of kids...”

“Austin’s fishing off the dock with Landon,” Spencer said. “I have to go look at a house in town, even though Austin wants to live in that RV next door for the rest of his life.”

“Ain’t a bad place, as places go,” Rawley said. Cooper’s toy hauler had been operating as a guest house ever since he had finished off the upstairs of the bar into his apartment.

“I’m looking for something a little bigger in the bathroom and kitchen department.” Spencer laughed. “Not to mention less sandy.”

“If you could train someone to wipe his great big ten-year-old feet, you could beat that problem. Have you noticed how big his feet are? Is that normal?” Cooper asked.

“Well, it’s normal on St. Bernard puppies,” Spencer said.

Leaving the men to talk, Rawley went to the kitchen. There was always work to be done—cleaning, stocking, organizing. Now that Cooper had an apartment and a fiancée, he stayed out of there. Cooper could clean his own house, do his own laundry. Cooper liked taking care of the beach, raking up, hauling trash, making sure there was no detritus that could harm people or wildlife. He said it gave him an idea of who used the beach and what they used it for. He maintained his stock of paddleboards and kayaks. And he spent a lot of time visiting with folks in town, on the beach, on the dock, in the bar. Cooper was a natural people person. Rawley had never been much for visiting.

Rawley kept himself busy working around the bar and in the kitchen till about seven-thirty. With the longer days there was plenty of sunlight left; Cooper and Landon could handle the place without him until sunset when folks tended to quit for the day, except those who liked the beach at night and enjoyed their fires.

His phone hadn’t rung all day. He wondered what he’d find when he got home. He had absolutely no idea. She was skittish; she might be gone. The place could be upended, valuables stolen...not that he had much in the way of valuables. But nothing prepared him for what he found when he got there. He could hear the TV upstairs and didn’t want to startle her, so he called from the bottom of the stairs.